Glory Days Wrap
It’s good I went to the party. It started at 9, I pulled in about 9:30 (how unhip, I know, but I’m getting old, and besides I was up at 5:30 this morning). On Melrose, down the block from Paramount, I entered the corner bar, called KANE (After passing muster from the obligatory door guy with his LIST, alphabetized as only LA can, beginning with our FIRST names, if you please), and found a smallish but interestingly décored…well, bar. Nothing on tap, but ample samples of brew, and I began with a Sierra Nevada. There were perhaps 12 people already there, no food in sight (HELLO) and I struck up a conversation with the fellow on the next bar stool, who turned out to be a lighting gaffer on the shoot. As we chatted and he probed me about pilots (I corrected him, this was a PRESENTATION), Eddie, the star strolled up, casually attired in baseball cap and flannel, and I debriefed him. Learned whatever we had was not yet airable, we’d need to add perhaps 10 more minutes for an hour air show, but there was buzz aplenty. I pondered the irony of my Lucky Strike napkins, yet I was not allowed to smoke, bar or not, it’s LA and 2001, and Ann, our waitress said she’d check with the owner, private party, maybe so. Eddie then joined at a large booth, a familiar blonde, someone important I hadn’t yet met. In truth, I’d not met ANY of the producers, other than Kevin and they hadn’t particularly extended themselves by introducing themselves to me, something SOME appreciative producers make a point of doing when I work. Still another blonde and her guy arrived, who later smiled and beckoned me over to join them. It was Dennie, our director, and her husband, who’d been one of the cameramen. I slid into the booth and suddenly belonged. Just like that.
Introductions around, met the producer, Kevin’s ‘right arm’, she was described as, and Dennie and I laughed, remembering that first night, when I was presented on set with an ‘instant family’ and no one had bothered to tell me. I shared some of Kevin’s other story lines, and we all roared at the one premise where a new Black family moves to town and I become quite upset at the idea of it. People continue to arrive and greet Dennie, reaching over, and naturally, I get to meet them too. It’s becoming rather clear that there is no food, and we soon discover there is to BE no food, this is after all, a BAR…(But I’ve never been to a wrap party WITHOUT food, in truth, that’s what I was really looking forward to, liquor aside.) Bear in mind the context of this evening is that 12 hours earlier today, I was blissfully semi-comatose, thanks to excellent narcotics, and my innermost parts were being probed and observed on television by the medical team, during a colonoscopy. Yesterday’s menu had consisted of chicken broth, white grape juice and serious quantities of water, but damn little else. So I had rather looked forward to this gala…past experiences promised shrimp, sushi, lobster, clever rich ornate canapes, skewers of meat, sides of beef, pastas, Jesus…not even pigs in a blanket? Not even chips and salsa? Oh well,
Dennie slipped out of the booth to greet more arrivals, and I slipped outside for a Pall Mall. But we first noticed that the stage area now had three scantily clad women bumping and grinding to the rather loud music enveloping us (I liked the DJ’s choices, tho), but wondered what kind of club WAS this, anyway?
Outside, the bouncer/checker/doorman filled me in on the scene….and I began to notice that there was a certain…well…it seemed sorta…well… gay. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, mind you.